


Hallow's End: A Sherlock Mystery

by Airwen



Category: Jack the Ripper - Fandom, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock (TV) RPF, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-24 23:54:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airwen/pseuds/Airwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a sting of strange murders in White Chapel, London. Sherlock is the first to notice the pattern, yet he can not identify the murderer. Has someone finally outwitted the world's only consulting detective?</p><p>This is a Sherlockian take on the Jack the Ripper murders.<br/>It also delves into the mindset of the Holmes brothers, Watson, Lestrade, and Ms. Hooper. while they work together to solve one of their most intriguing cases.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Victim

Sherlock exhaled the cigarette smoke from his shaking lips. His hand were stiff from the frigid night air.  
Before him laid a dead woman. Her brown hair was carelessly topped on her head with a bun.  
Her head was turned sideways. Her face was red and bloated, and her mouth was open spilling out her hot blood.  
Her clothes, once a lovely shade of blue, was now stained a deep crimson. The blood was fresh, and with each moment the blood slowly progressed on the pavement toward the tall, thin man. He looked at the body with curiosity. 

Where had she come from? Who killed her, and why would they do it in such an atrocious way? 

Usually questions like these were simple for Sherlock. However, this time it was a mystery even to him.  
He crouched down to observe the body closer. The bottom of his coat laid across the pavement.  
He finished his cigarette and politely squeezed out the ember in a tissue, and shoved it into his left inside pocket. He gave the victim a better look. Sherlock was instantly able to tell she was a prostitute. Most of the women are in White Chapel. Not by choice of course, who would choose to live such a horrid life? Her stature was small, about 150 centimeters.  
He looked at her make-up. It was smeared from the tears that escaped her big, brown eyes.  
Her teeth were discolored from the expulsion of blood. Many of her front teeth were missing. Her head was almost severed from her body. All of the vessels and tissues were severed. Her murderer left the vertebrae in place.  
“Incisions by a large bladed knife. Fairly sharp, and used with great force and violence.” Sherlock said to himself.  
Her skirt was hiked up and showed some undesirable parts. Sherlock pulled it down so that she might have some decency before Lestrade arrived.  
While he was observing her body he listened for any suspicious movement on the street. She had only been dead for a short amount of time. Sherlock estimated she had been dead for about two minutes. 

There was nothing active on the street. Not even the howl of a hound, or a scatter of rat. Sherlock knew the murderer was a swift, sly creature.

 

Sherlock texted Lestrade.  
Bucks Row.  
Dead body.  
-SH

Sherlock left the woman's body where it lied and began to search for evidence of her murderer.


	2. The Inspector LLC

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestrade and Donovan are introduced.

Lestrade looked at his phone. He looked at the text eagerly. Sherlock rarely texted him these days so he knew it must have been important. It wasn't the content he was expecting, and somewhat hoping for.

Lestrade did as it said and brought a few men with him to Buck's Row. Donovan was also among them.  
They approached the bloody body. It was not difficult to find. Her body was sprawled carelessly accoss the concrete in the middle of Buck's Row. Her wounds were easily seen from a distance. Her wounds were bright red with the fresh cuts. Blood was slowly flowing into the gutters.  
Lestrade looked at the woman close and began to take some notes. Donovan searched the area. 

After much investigation, Donovan came up to Lestrade. Lestrade thought she smelled of honey dew melons. He used to like honeydew melons, but now he associated the smell with her and he couldn't bring himself to eat them anymore. He would always gag before he brought the food to his lips.  
Donovan was a audacious woman, who despised Sherlock. Lestrade practically felt as if it was a chore to bring her along to cases that involved Sherlock. She always concluded that Sherlock had something to do with it. Always, without fail. 

"I have not found anything. The only thing I have found is evidence left by Sherlock," Donovan sneered. 

"Yeah, I know," sighed Lestrade. He knew what was coming next. 

"He is a fucking psychopath, that one."  
Lestrade rolled his eyes and moved Donovan out of the way carefully.  
"I don't have time for this conversation right now Donovan."  
"It is obvious to everyone, but you Lestrade." she snarled at Lestrade. 

He decided to ignore her.  
"We need to get some people to identify this body. Whomever killed this poor woman is long gone now.  
It is best that we identify her, and try to find a motive," Lestrade said.

\---

People did not understand Sherlock like Lestrade did. He felt once they had a certain level of understanding.  
They were close once.

He had seen Sherlock in his worse condition, and helped I'm rise from it. He had helped him become a better person. 

Sometimes Lestrade wondered if Sherlock remembered what he did for him. He spent long nights at his flat making sure he would recover, making sure he would wake up the next morning. 

Lestrade thought that Sherlock knew that he cared about him, but now he was beginning to think differently. He never called him anymore, and only texted him when he had a dead body for him to look at. Their relationship was falling apart. That is, if they ever had one in the first place.  
Sometimes he wished that Sherlock would relapse, so that he could feel needed again, feel as if he was important.  
He hated the way he thought about Sherlock. And he hated the way he felt about John Watson even more.


End file.
